A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More FanFiction
by Jacki Thompson
Summary: Based off of the music video for Fall Out Boy's "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More 'Touch Me'". Four years have passed since we first were sealed off in the city. The vampire hunters are just making things worse and to top it all off, they're all a bunch of emotionally stunted men about my age (that is, a young adult). We're screwed.
1. The Skinheads Rule This Town

"_I wanna see your animal side,_

_Let it all out_

_I wanna see the dirt under your skin…._

_I want the guts and glory baby, baby_

_This town is wasted and alone"_

_ -"Death Valley", Fall Out Boy_

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Who ever said that living in the embodiment of an old action-horror movie was a good thing? Silverfox, California was overrun with blood-suckers, and who were the only people defending it? A ragtag group of vampire hunters in their early twenties. Right. We're screwed.

There was a reason that my three best friends and I never go outside at night. We live inside Braeden's house, scrounging food from the abandoned houses around and using the money to buy from the stores when possible. Yeah… it's only a matter of time before we're caught, but we're trying our best here.

I looked up, then glanced back down at my magazine when Di (her name is Diana, but she likes Di better; it's pronounced like the letter D) came back from a short run to the grocery store. She looked almost looked worse than when we were chased by a group of vampires called the Punks (yes, that is truly their name) when we forgot to watch the sun setting.

Her curly red hair was trying its best to be a side braid, but most of it was pulled out and floating around her shoulders like a halo. Her hazel eyes were bare, even though she wore glasses, just like I do. Her clothes were almost strategically ripped at her stomach, shoulders, and knees, only showing bits of skin that you would be able to see if she was wearing a bikini.

"I swear, everyone thinks you're about to suck their blood if you don't smile." She muttered, throwing the groceries in a clump near corner of the open kitchen and dining room area. They made a clattering sound of metal cans being forcibly smashed against each other.

"Another one of those cases of mistaken identity?" I flipped to the next page of the magazine that I was pretending to read. I was so not interested in the things that used to make me go into fangirl-sized spasms. It was a Doctor Who fiftieth anniversary special edition of the magazine, but even Matt Smith or David Tennant couldn't make me smile giddily anymore.

Not when we couldn't read in the evenings because all lights had to be off in case the Skinheads passed by and noticed. Not when our families had skipped town on us, leaving us to defend ourselves. Not when on every corner there was a chance you would either be turned into an undead or at least sucked (for some reason, you could drink somebody's blood without the intent of turning them and they would stay alive and not be a blood-sucking creep) of blood. Most of the vampires didn't care whether you died of blood loss or not; they just wanted their dinner.

Di looked outside, staring at the orange sun, still high enough above the horizon that long purple shadows snuck along the sun-warmed earth outside and the golden light caught in her eyes, making the hazel change to a warm honey color. The was still day outside; no one talked, no cars honked. Even the wind seemed scared to disturb the peace. The trees stood as black outlines against the pink and yellow sky, silently observing the ghost town around us.

"I want to play something." I announced, looking outside. The night was just starting to cool off, and there was about an hour until sunset, so if we went outside right now, we would still be good.

However, Di first looked at me like I was crazy, then grinned too. "I like that idea. It's been too long since we've done anything fun."

I closed the magazine and threw it across the room. "We need to get the guys to join us!"

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Braeden and his little brother, Donnie, were all for it, but we did take some precautions (we're not total idiots). A stake for each of us and a silver dagger we got off a dead vampire hunter were laid beside our field of play.

The boys love outdoor sports, and after much debate we settled on Ultimate Frisbee. If you've never played, the rules are simple: get to the other end goal by tossing a Frisbee back and forth. If you have the Frisbee, you have to stop running and look for someone on your team to pass to. If you drop the Frisbee, the other team gets it.

Donnie was on my team, Braeden and Di the other team. Donnie, while the youngest of our group, was one of the best at games. We made good teammates, although I'm the type of person who just kind of has to learn a game to be a good player (I'm not the best, I'm just kind of a reliable teammate).

Donnie tossed the Frisbee and we ran across the dead grass, it crunching underneath our feet as Braeden caught it and tossed to Di on the right side of the field. I ran up to Di and waved my hands to try and hit it out of the air when she tossed it. Unfortunately, she tossed it high and got it to Braeden, then ran while I was watching the arc of the disk.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Team Hawks (Braeden and Di) were ahead by three before we made our first score, but then we ripped the rug out from under them and scored five before they got another point. But Team Flaming Stuffs (Donnie and I) were tied up with Hawks with seven points and about to make a score when we made our first mistake.

I threw the disk too high and it went sailing into the next yard where the owner had sprung for a solid-board fence nine feet high. Since I was the tallest (the Braeden, Di, and then Donnie) I was elected to retrieve it. Also, I was the one to throw it over the fence in the first place.

"Just beware of dog." Braeden joked.

"Oh, my gosh!" I laughed, running at the fence and running up it. I missed the lip, falling backwards and landing on my back. Nothing hurt, but I was a little sore. Of course, this made everyone else crack up.

"Yeah, well, you try it, Cat." Cat was Braeden's nickname, and Bear was his brother. They had never told me or Di about the origin of the nicknames, but they almost never called either of us by our actual names either. Maybe it was just the way they were.

"Step aside and let the master do it." Donnie stepped forward and ran at the wall, his scuffed sneakers making a scratching sound as he ran up the wall and grabbed the top of the fence.

"GAH! Splinters!" He managed to get himself into the yard, though, and soon Di was holding the Frisbee as he made his painful way back over the fence. Donnie rolled over the top and landed on his back with a thump that shook the trees and would have disturbed the birds if there had been any.

I was laughing so hard I could barely talk, and so were the other two.

"Oh my gosh, Bear! Are you okay?" I giggled as I helped him up.

"I think the Bear is just fine." Donnie checked himself over and looked at the palm of his hand in the fading light and picking out the long splinters of wood from his hand. Little drops of blood beaded from the worst of them, but Donnie didn't flinch as I helped him first, then Braeden (who had better eyesight) took over and looked him over one last time before declaring him fine.

While he was checking over his brother for injuries, I moved to the end zone and caught Donnie's attention. Bear looked at me, then asked Di for the Frisbee.

She handed it over, and Bear spun around and sent me a perfect pass. I jumped up and caught it by one finger.

"WOO! YEAH!" Donnie jumped in the air and screamed as I screamed back.

"TEAM HAWKS SEVEN, FLAMING STUFFS EIGHT! Watchya gonna do!?"

Braeden, being a good sport, but pretending to be a sore loser in classic Cat style, replied, "Quiet you!"

"Bear Force triumphs!" Donnie fist bumped me as Di protested the legality of that move.

"That's cheating!" Her freckled face was red and flushed, with little strands of damp hair clinging to her face as she shot an exasperated smile our way.

"We still win." I pointed out. "We have eight, you have seven."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes as she picked up the stakes and dagger while I swung the Frisbee loosely from my middle finger, then on a whim tossed it to Cat, who caught it, shooting it across me to Donnie on my other side. He tossed it to Di, who dropped the weapons and backed up to catch it, tripping over herself in eagerness to catch it. We all laughed, including her, as Braeden moved forward to help her up.

Braeden and I have known each other almost as long as Di and I have. We had classes together and just sort of…clicked. It's hard to explain. For a while we had crushes on one another, which of course meant Di and Donnie were always teasing us about it and trying to get us together. But I grew out of it and he became my best and one of my only guy friends. I only had five girl friends at the time, so it's that more (or maybe less) impressive that we became comrades in arms or whatever you call members of the 'Bear Force'.

He's the strongest out of all of us and also has the shortest hair that has little spikes in the very front of it and always wears a fleece jacket, Nike t-shirts, sneakers, and exercise pants. When the sun's bright out, he also wears yellow, orange, and red shaded glasses. Cat also loves video games like MineCraft, Golden Eye, and Black Ops.

While I can get into them, I really like writing, drawing manga or cityscapes, or playing piano. My teacher helped me get really far, but I had to stop after she left. I still practice, since Bear and I like to play duets together, but I was having trouble learning anything new. Writing…. oh gosh. I had like ten different notebooks filled with a page or two of different ideas or lists of locations, characters, and so on. Sometimes drawings went into those as well, but mostly I had books I would use to find new techniques and draw it on printer paper.

Donnie wore glasses like most of us, big one that magnified his eyes to bug-proportions and emphasized his bowling-ball-shaped head and almost-shaven blonde hair. He normally wears graphic tees, like me and Di, but he wears exercise pants a lot, like his brother. He was also stronger than either of us girls. We were just wimps before this whole thing happened, and though we are a lot stronger now than we were at the start, the boys had also gotten stronger in the time that we'd been trapped here.

Why didn't we leave the city earlier? Our families left without telling us, for one. We didn't know for quite a few days that we were on our own. By that time, the police had quarantined the city, and no one could leave. We tried, but they caught us sneaking out in broad daylight to get away (either risk getting caught by the police in the daytime or caught by vamps at night. Take your pick). So now we're stuck here, trying to survive. Almost all of us have made it this far, but there were five of us at one point…. That means that we have a 20% chance of dying. Not very good odds, if you ask me.

I had the strangest upbringing amongst all of us as far as I knew. We were all part of good Christian families, and homeschooled (Di went to a public high school, but the rest of us were homeschooled all the way up to junior year, when the vampires first started invading), but I always loved anything dark and bloody. My 'friends' from the church that I went to always looked at me strange whenever I would start talking. I call them 'friends' because I wouldn't normally instigate a conversation with them and only when we were in a scenario when we were forced to be together would we have a pleasant conversation up until I mentioned how much I liked Joker's pencil trick from _The_ _Dark Knight_. Then all other topics ceased and they would just stare at me.

I always thought my life was just about perfect when I heard about all the other hard stuff other families had been through, but I guess I wasn't counting on karma coming back around and biting me.

I used to have really dirty, almost brunette, hair, but as soon as everything started up, I went a little crazy and died all my hair blue. I hadn't cut it in quite a while, so my hair was past my shoulder blades at that point. I made sure to keep it a nice turquoise/lime green looking color, but it was hard to find the right hair products anymore. And out of all of us, I had the biggest tattoo. Di had a small design on her wrist from the Harry Potter books; the sign of the Deathly Hallows. Braeden had a tiger head on his upper arm and Donnie had the same, only a bear. Me? I had a purple Chinese dragon curled around my left eye and down that side of my neck. Wearing my favorite black and white fedora did much to keep it unnoticeable from a distance, but up close the only thing that kept it from consuming my entire face were my glasses, which I often opted not to wear in favor of contacts.

One of my old friends used to tell me it was a shame I covered up my eyes with glasses and bangs, because, and I quote: "they were the color of the sea". I was really impressed that she had complimented me that way, because she was the prettiest girl I had ever met and we weren't even really all that close, so it meant a lot that she would tell me that. So now the glasses and bangs were gone, but a dragon had come by to steal its place.

Di tossed the disk to Cat, and I took off at a running start, raising my hand to get Cat's attention. He noticed and threw it to me, and I caught it low, spun, and threw a terrifically bad toss to Bear. As Bear ran after it, he gave me a look that clearly of exasperation. The disk had flown off the street where we were standing on and onto the driveway of a bright blue house on the side of the street where we'd been playing earlier; on the opposite side of where our house was.

The Frisbee swooshed through the air with a distinctive wobble to it as Di ran after it. She didn't catch it before it hit the ground, but she picked it up and sent a straight toss to Braeden. Even though he didn't need to, the show-off leaped up and caught it. Again, he and Donnie could jump higher than us girls could anyway. It was actually quite frustrating how they would always ask us why we couldn't do something they could do, no problem. One, we were never as athletic as them. Two, we're females. We're never going to be stronger than a man who's fitter than us.

He tossed to Bear who shot a quick toss back to him before shooting across to me. It went above my head and I couldn't catch it, but I made a valiant effort of reaching up to brush my fingertips against it.

"C'mon, Quinn! You can do better than that!" Donnie gave me a fake disappointed look. "You're embarrassing us!"

"Well, how can I help it if you keep shooting it over my head? I'm not as tall as you think I am." I jogged over to the disk and picked it up off the gray cracked asphalt, where it had landed near the faded yellow line. There was no relief to the repressing heat that had permeated the day, and we were all sweating hard. Di and I had both shed the button-down tops we had been wearing in the house in favor for tank tops. I was wearing a sunset colored one, with stripes of orange fading into yellow in between oatmeal-colored strips. She was wearing a white one with stripes also, but it had sky blue, navy blue, and scarlet stripes with stars in silver sprinkled across it.

I could see the damp places on all of our backs from the hard exercise and the hot day. It was uncomfortable, but I was having to much fun to give it much thought other than an occasional tug to try and find a dry place to soak up the sweat with no luck.

I couldn't hear anything around us but the scratching of our beaten-up sneakers and in Di's case, flip-flops, on the asphalt and our exhilarated screams and laughs echoing down the empty lane. We were standing in the shade in front of the blue house, because the sunlight was getting in our eyes when we stood in the middle of the street where there was access to the field we'd been playing on.

Suddenly, a hand brushed my arm. "Tag! You're it!" Donnie blew past me, running up the street. _Oh, so _that's_ what we're playing now._ I ran after him, my breaths and heartbeat pounding my skull.

I'm not the fastest runner, but I'm good at anticipating where people will go. Bear was running in a curved L shape, so I was ready and tagged him when he turned on a dime to run in the opposite direction, then ran before he had time to reverse his direction.

Breathing hard, I stopped next to Di as Braeden dodged Donnie's first attack and ran, Bear following close behind.

"Hey." She was breathing hard, too, and pulled her hair out of the braid to redo it in a ponytail. "What's new?"

"Nothing much." I just barely saw Bear's hand and darted sideways. He got Di and Di immediately tagged me. "I thought we were friends!" I yelled after her, laughing as I chased Cat around the parking lot. He shot under my arm and I turned and kept after him. It was a hard game, with me getting the longest time as 'it'. Finally, we sat on the concrete in a square and just tossed the Frisbee back and forth.

"So Quinn." Bear started. "We're heading into town for new clothes soon. You comin'?"

I caught the disk and threw it to Di as I replied, "Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I?"

"You've almost become a blood-sucker yourself this last year." Di tossed it to Cat. "You almost never leave the house and don't like the sunlight. Did you get bit and we didn't know it?" Her tone was joking, but she looked very serious. I glanced at her bare arms, covered with pockmarks. No wonder she was cautious.

"Nah, just haven't really been feeling all that well. But I'm here guys." I gave a thumbs up with a grin. "I'll be back to normal soon!"

"You'd better be." Donnie tossed the disk to Cat, then rolling back and laying on the concrete. "The Bear Force isn't complete with out our Q."

"Don't worry about it!" I leaned over and tugged hard on the Frisbee, though Braeden refused to let go. I tugged harder and the disk flew up, away from both of us.

"Nice job." Bear snickered as I got up to get it. "You seem to have a lot of trouble for just catching a plate and then throwing it again."

I stuck my tongue out and ran over to get the disk from where it rolled onto our lawn. I picked up the chipped, off-white Frisbee and wiped my hands on my shorts. Suddenly, I saw him.

A man with a leather jacket sat in the shade on our porch. For a second, I waited for him to move. When he did, I screamed.


	2. Whoever Said I Liked Vamp Hunters?

**A/N: I should probably mention that this is meant to be a prequel to the trilogy done by Yellowfur, the stories being "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More Fanfic", "This Ain't a Scene, It's a Fanfic", and "The Takeover, the Fanfic's Over". You should check them out. Also, I now have co-writer who edited this chapter for me. Thank you, K. J. Callahan!**

. . . . . . . . . . .

"_So we can take the world back from a heart attack_

_One maniac at a time we will take it back"_

_ -"Phoenix", Fall Out Boy_

. . . . . . . . . . .

Confession time: _I didn't actually scream._ I yelled in a hoarse voice, "RUN!" Everyone else definitely took notice and scrambled to their feet, but I was already moving. But we're mortal, not to mention that Di, the oldest out of all of us, had eight more months until she turned twenty and we weren't at our fittest point in our lives and most people wouldn't even call us young adults. Suffice to say, I was quickly restrained by the vamp that had been sitting in the shadows. I struggled, but his muscular arms had me in a death grip. It actually _hurt_ to move.

Di and Donnie were also being held by vampires of the group called Skinheads. They controlled the area around our home and must have heard us playing, not to mention that I could see that the sun had sunk beneath the horizon and the sky was streaked with purple and blue, with layers of pink. The first stars twinkled overhead, welcoming the moon into the sky. It wasn't a full moon, but it was a waxing gibbous. I love the night, and the moonlight on the ground always took my breath away. But right now I was more concerned with the fact that we were all about to die because I didn't keep track of the time.

Braeden had reacted the fastest to my yell and had managed to get to the weapons, but he was almost over run and only had a stake in one hand and the dagger in the other. Five or more of the bloodsuckers made a ring around him, hissing and staying just out of range. His face, glistening with sweat from our exercise and nerves, was just visible beyond the weaving and aggressive vampires that stood around them.

Donnie, his glasses knocked sideways, was standing very still in the grasp of the woman biker who was holding him. It looked like he was a wax sculpture and the female was just hugging it. His eyes were faced straight forward, not looking towards me or Di, or even towards his brother.

The guy holding me turned to look at a vampire sitting on the hood of an abandoned car in a driveway (he was making me bend and flow with him when he moved, which was very uncomfortable). He called out to the vampire on the hood, who was wearing a vest unbuttoned over his bare chest, "Yo, Tay, which one ya want?"

I had a very good idea he wasn't talking about which car on the street Tay wanted. My suspicions were confirmed when Tay jumped off the hood and loped towards me.

He had multiple piercings, almost like his face was a game board and the rings were game pieces. Two hoops in his nose, three in his left ear, two in right. And one final one on his lip, a hoop that probably got in the way of eating. The one thing that kept me staring at him was his golden eyes. They seemed to mesmerize Di, too. Her gaze seemed fixed to his face.

The guy holding me brushed the hair away from my neck on the side where the dragon's tail curled around in shimmery piles of ink. He then pulled my head sideways to show off… something. I guess my tattoo.

Tay raised his gold eyes at the sight of the tattoo, which was probably almost impossible to see (unless you were a vamp) in the rapidly gathering dark. He stepped closer and took a good look at it, then turned and stalked towards Donnie, who stood still as the woman pulled his head to one side, doing the same that the guy holding me had done and exposing his tanned neck. He barely glanced at Donnie before moving on to Di, who snapped out of it and was struggling with the skinny dude holding her, his eyebrows waggling excitedly as he tried to hold her down. Again, he wrenched her head to one side and pulled back her ponytail. There was much resistance on Di's part; her whole body seemed to writhe like a snake. I knew exactly what was making her squirm like that, and apparently Tay noticed it too.

He looked at her once and then moved forward, his eyes fastened on her neck. Tay approached Di like a tiger in the grass and softly touched one finger along her neck, running over the ridges and scars. She shuddered, then seemed to go limp.

He turned, taking the body of my best friend, again readjusting her head, then yelled, "Dinner is served boys!" The whole gang let out a yell as the crowd around Braeden, which had been pretty silent as they waited for their leader's okay surged forward and engulfed him.

"BRAEDEN!" I screamed as the bloodsucker holding me sank his teeth deep into my neck. He went deeper than was necessary and sucked hard. I scrabbled to push him off, but already blood loss was making it hard to see straight. Buzzing filled my ears, drowning out the yells and screams from Braeden and the crowd of vamps surrounding him.

A feral cry and a suddenly the arms around me were gone. I dropped to the ground, the impact jarring up my bones. I coughed, looking around from the position on the ground where I'd fallen. My neck burned where he had bit me and I watched in a shell shocked daze as four people dressed in matching officer's clothes approached, one holding a rapier, another holding a crossbow, and the other two with nothing but their fists. They let out a yell as my eyes rolled up into my head and I passed out.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Fuzzy and incoherent as it is when you first wake up from being unconscious, I only remember after fully awakening. I was sitting on the curbside next to our house, holding a paper towel to my neck, where two fairly big-sized holes told all they needed to.

One of the vampire hunters came over to sit next to me, the others dealing with Braeden…. I swallowed a lump in my throat. About six vampires had taken a bite out of him all at once, and were planning on draining him dry. How much probability would there be that he was dead?

Almost as if he was reading my mind, the boy sitting next to me smiled encouragingly. "He'll be fine. He took a worse beating than you did, but he'll be fine."

Saying nothing, I stared at the ash and bloodied stakes littering the ground. They managed to nail four out of the nine or so bloodsuckers that were there, and hit the rest at least once. But I could still hear Braeden's screams and hear the chaos around us.

A night wind stirred up, scattering the ashes and making me shiver. It was much darker, but the moon worked just as well as the sun once your eyes had adjusted. Plus, I liked the cold silvery glow of the moon better.

"I'm Andy." The hunter offered.

He held out a hand and I shook it reluctantly. There was no arguing that they had just rescued us, but I hadn't trusted vampires or their hunters in a very long time.

The hand that Andy had offered me to shake was covered with tattoos, and on closer inspection almost his entire body was covered with tattoos. He also had two lip piercings and glasses with bold frames that looked like if I had drawn him on paper the rest of his face would have been drawn with pencil and the glasses would have been drawn with Sharpie. On his other side, a silver rapier sat, glinting in the cold light. At my dubious glance directed at the instrument, he shrugged.

"It gets the job done."

"Ah." I looked back out across the road. Donnie sat on the other side, feeling delicately at the bite on his neck. Self-consciously I reached up to mine. It was painful, but I also could now feel a pair of holes like a screwdriver would make in wood on my neck. I had seen the wounds and had them before, but never this big. It felt like someone had used a jackhammer instead of a little hand drill. From what I could feel, they were just about where the legs of my dragon tat connected to the body, though I wouldn't know for sure until I could look at them in a mirror, and the hunters weren't letting us leave until they finished. Freaking overprotective men.

"I like your tats." He nodded to my dragon. I self-consciously touched it, feeling red rush to my face, but the light was too dark for him to see how badly I took compliments.

"Thanks." We awkwardly sat next to each other as Braeden stirred from his spot on the ground. The two working on him stepped back to give him room. I got up to go over and reassure myself he wasn't dead, but Andy touched my hand, making me jerk back like I had burned my hand. Actually, my brain was doing the same thing that it did when I ever got burned: my mind was trying to catch up to my body, with a moment of just blank shock that took up my entire mind before I realized I'd already yanked my hand back. I gave him a stone-cold glare that gave a very clear message of _"never touch me again, you creep"_, but I sat down again. Another long stretch of silence stood until a very unfortunate interruption.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" I jerked my head up at Di's shriek. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and was shying away from a slightly overweight member of the group, who was holding some antiseptic and a bandage, obviously about to attend to her wound.

"Calm down!" He sounded exasperated at her shying. "I just want to clean out that bite before it gets infected."

Again, my body moved faster than my brain and the pulse of shock that he was trying to see Di's wound made my only objective to get him away from my best friend. I stood up, almost pushing over Andy in my rush. Donnie noticed too and was yelling at the hunter to leave Di alone, but the hunter wasn't listening.

"Stay back!" I yelled hoarsely (did I mention my voice is pretty deep for a girl and I don't scream prettily? I sound like an old scratched record being played almost backwards). The guy didn't hear me and kept on advancing. Di backed up again and they were entered a circle of light that illuminated every feature of them with a harsh brilliance. The hunter again moved forward to help Di.

"NO!" Di pushed him back, the sheet slipping from her shoulders as she did so. Donnie and I stared in horror as the blanket tumbled to the ground, revealing in the spotlight the hunters had set up as a safe zone dozens upon dozens of little scars. The exact size and shape of a vampire's bite stamped up and down her arms, neck, and shoulders.

Andy turned pale, one of the hunters (the only one wearing a hoodie) muttered, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Even the one closest to Di took in a sharp breath and stepped backwards. I rushed to Di's side and picked up the blanket, quickly covering her with it. But we all knew it was too late; everyone had seen her mark.

. . . . . . . . . . .

I love hot summer days, and tried to take advantage of it by just laying on the roof of our house the next day. Di came up too, but was strangely quiet as she rubbed sunscreen on her arms and exposed belly. I was wearing jeans (like, jeans that covered me to my ankles. Everyone says I'm weird for liking to wear pants in the summer), tennis shoes, and a white t-shirt with a pair of Converse sneakers on the front of it. Plus the necklace that I always wear: the actual necklace was two lengths of black braided leather and the pendant is about the size of a dollar bill if you folded it in half. The pendant is silver and kind of abstract. I got in Hawaii when I went there with my grandparents when I was ten. I was kind of surprised it lasted the eight years it did.

Di was wearing a turquoise bikini top that really made her red hair look as if it was on fire. She had pulled it back into a braid, and had a black ponytail on her wrist in case the one in her hair snapped. Her shorts were really quite short – shorter than would make me feel comfortable, and she was wearing beaded gladiator sandals that actually belonged to me, but I had let her wear them because she looked really good in them.

She passed me the sunscreen and I started work on my face, soaking in the warm sun until it felt like it was pouring out of my eyes, nose and mouth. It was just overflowing and the warm shingles on the roof didn't leech any of the heat. I was listening to a CD that I had found in some guy's duffel he'd left in his room on Jonquil Lane. He must have been a college student, because the CD was shoved in as a bookmark in a biology textbook for a course at the local university. It was a home-mixed disc, so I really had no idea what was on it. I just laid back with one hand over my eyes to shield the sun and let myself float on the music.

Last night hadn't gone well after Di's unfortunate slip-up. The hunters had been hurriedly ushered away by Donnie while I escorted a very sick Braeden back indoors. They were very insistent on staying, but eventually were helped along by my throwing of a water balloon out the third flood window and hitting one of them on the shoulder. It burst open, scattering them and soaking the one I had hit – the only one wearing a hoodie along with his uniform (who even wears uniforms anymore, anyway?). After that, they had quickly packed up and left.

Donnie was taking care of Braeden until the time Cat got irritated from staying in bed till his blood level was back up and ordered him out, in which case he would come and join us girls on the roof. Probably he would flirt a little, get hit with a towel, then lay down and just enjoy the day with us. Whoever said there wasn't any pleasure in an action/horror movie scenario?

After last night accident, we surely needed to take a break before heading into town for new clothes. Di was sensitive about her scars, and had only told the group once. I had already known, but the boys and us hadn't met up until afterwards. It was a very dark time for both of us, and neither of us liked to talk about it. I had actually resorted to throwing knives and other dangerous objects at random people that passed underneath our stolen apartment window (I say 'stolen' because we technically weren't supposed to be there). I don't think I hit very many, but now throwing water balloons out windows suffices.

The cloudless sky overhead was deep blue in a giant ring right around the middle of the sky. Near the sun and the horizon it was a light blue, lighter blue than Eli – I mean, my eyes.

It was actually getting uncomfortable laying on my front under the sun, so I rolled over onto my back, letting out a soft noise of contentment as the warmth began to sink into my shoulder blades and back. I love heat. During the winter I would take a shower in the mornings and baths in the evenings, not to mention heating rice bags, wearing sweaters and jackets, and drinking at least one cup of tea to keep warm. It was enjoyable (I still love snow and such), but I really enjoy it much more in California. I actually considered for a moment singing 'California Gurls' by Katy Perry just to aggravate Di, but decided against it. She was a little out of sorts and was a bit touchy right at that moment.

A scratchy sound of bristles brushing back and forth over a smooth surface made me open my eyes and look up to see Bear in a t-shirt with the Batman symbol on it and black basketball shorts with no shoes and a navy blue towel draped over his shoulder opening the sliding window (for some reason they happened to have a window that opened sideways like a sliding glass door).

"Hey." I took out my earbuds and watched him silently as he laid his towel horizontally from mine and Di's, near our heads. Di was asleep, so I wasn't about to disturb her. Apparently, neither was Bear. He quietly and slowly took the sunscreen and started spreading it on his legs, glancing up at me every once and a while with the expression of someone who wants something very specific.

I watched him for a while, finally getting fed up and snapping, "What?"

He started working on his arms, quiet for several minutes. He finally replied, "I want to know what did that to her."

"You know you should ask her yourself."

"Last time I did that, she poured jelly down my shirt." We both laughed for a little, remembering, then went quiet. The bugs in the grass buzzed, adding just a bit of white noise to the still day. The air was filled with the complete stillness. We lived far enough away that it was almost impossible to hear anything in the city, so even if there was a huge fire, we would only know because of the smoke.

"But I just want to know. I mean, just that guy trying to help Di with her bite set her into a frenzy. Why would it? He was trying to help. We've all got marks." It was true. Each if us had at least three bites somewhere.

"It's…. hard to explain, Bear." I snuck a glance at Di, still fast asleep. Her skin was a rosy pink from the sun, but I would wake her up before she burned. The scars were still a pale white, though, and made it look like she had left little droplets of glue all over her upper body.

"It wasn't a good time for either of us."

_I stood in the door to our apartment, staring with dismay at Di. Her hair was short; cropped just at her jawline in a raggedy cut that bespoke more of a decision for convenience than style. I myself hadn't completed the dragon around my eye, so the tail curled up to stop abruptly at ear level, and both of our faces and clothes were covered with a think layer of grime._

_Her arm was bleeding in about sixteen different places, but she didn't say anything as she stared back at me with a haggard expression. I didn't have to say anything either; we both knew that I was in a state of shock. She'd never come home with that many different marks before._

_Sighing, I shifted my makeshift purse and took out some antiseptic and bandages. It wasn't going to be easy to clean all the different cuts, but at least this wasn't the first time we'd had to deal with it._

_Di hissed as I pressed a paper towel with cleaning alcohol against her arm, but relaxed her grip on my wrist a little once I held it there for a bit. She tightened her grip again, however, when I moved the towel to pat down the rest of her forearm. Then together we wrapped the bandage tightly around the wounds._

"_Oh, my God! Di!" A voice from behind us gasped. I turned – _

I cut out of the memory. "It was a _very_ bad time for both of us." It didn't make it any better that people kept on trying to trade other individuals to the vampires in turn for protection. This ended up meaning we were almost kidnapped five times.

Donnie looked back at the sleeping Di for a bit, just looking at her silently. I sat, staring at him. Another long pause stretched onwards.

"You know she'll tell you again when she's ready. Just… people react so strongly to them that she doesn't care to talk about it anymore. I don't think she cared to talk about in the first place."

Donnie turned his gaze towards the city's horizon. He sighed after a good long time staring at the skyscrapers flash and glitter in the afternoon sun. "You're probably right. I just…. She's part of our group now. It used to be just me and Cat. And then… you guys found us. And now… I don't know. I just want to know what's going on with her."

"Don't worry. She'll tell you when she's good and ready. But I'm not telling you before hand."

"Hmm." Bear stood up and stretched. I did the same, feeling my vertebrae pop as I bent in a way that I hadn't while I was sitting.

"I still say we need new clothes and sitting around here isn't gonna get very much done."

"Tomorrow." I agreed. "It's a Saturday. Any shops that are still operating are going to definitely be open then."

"Right. And the Bear Force needs their matching uniforms."


	3. I Confess I REALLY Hate the City

**A/N: Once again, thank you to my co-writer K. J. Callahan for previewing this chapter and editing. One other note: while this takes place in the same universe as the trilogy done by Yellowfur (titles in the previous chapter), this takes place **_**before**_** Pete is a vampire. **_**Before**_** the events of the video. Got it?**

. . . . . . . . . . .

"_But if you close your eyes_

_Does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?_

_And if you close your eyes_

_Does it almost feel like you've been here before?"_

_ -"Pompeii", Bastille_

. . . . . . . . . . .

I strapped on a backpack, even taking the time to clip the buckle right across my chest. It carried everything I would need for an all day trip into the city: socks for trying on shoes, money, a cell phone (it was surprising that we still got service after four years in a war zone), a white camisole, and a water bottle. It was almost surreal to have such a normal collection of stuff along with a wooden stake and garlic inside a plastic bag, because it stinks so much. I actually understand why vampires don't like it. Hell, _I_ don't like it.

It was the next day, and the Bear Force (the name grew on me, and it's tiring to always call us 'the gang' or whatever. I think Donnie is actually our leader, anyway, which gave him the right to choose our name. You don't really choose that kind of thing, it just kind of happens) had packed up to go. All of us were going to get clothes together and then Braeden and I were going to go and get soap, toothpaste, and that type of stuff. Donnie and Di were going to get groceries from one of the seven grocery stores still open. Wearing a black t-shirt advertising participation in a Spartan Race (a super tough race with obstacles like live wire, ice-filled pools, and the like. People _die_ doing that race), jeans with bleach stains, white sneakers now gray from washes and dirt, and a black leather coat I used to think looked like Sherlock Holmes' jacket, I was ready as I hopped into the back of our silver truck.

Everyone except for Di, our designated driver, rode in the back as we drove into the almost deserted town. As we went further and further into the city, we saw more and more signs of the desolation the town had. Bodies piled next to garbage bins to be incinerated with yesterday's coffee grounds and smoldering rubble left to raise curling layers of smoke to the white fluffy clouds filling the sky.

But the day wasn't nearly as hot as yesterday, and the dew covered the dusty, dried grass with glittering jewels. I made a face anyway, staring at the water in disgust. I didn't like the way a moist, warm day felt, and I liked it even less when I had to walk or sit in the dew-covered grass.

It was definitely a humid day; another thing I hated. It made me sweat like crazy and

I always felt like I was suffocating. It's not really all that hard to avoid heat, but you can't avoid moisture. Ugh. I could already feel beads of perspiration soaking into the band of my fedora (which I'd worn to avoid stares for my tattoo).

The day was still early, and everyone was still waking up from a deep night's sleep. Those of us on the roof yesterday morning because that's just what lots of sun exposure does to you (have you ever gone to the beach and just laid in the sand all day, only to be exhausted when you get home?), and Braeden because he was still healing from the run-in he had with the Skinheads.

Thankfully, they'd left us alone for now, and we were as prepared as we could be without becoming _over_ prepared. Think about it: there's a twenty, maybe forty-five percent chance they'll come back, and we'll spend all our time training for something that's never gonna happen. And if they do come back, there are four less of them, and we'll be more careful of being inside before sunset next time. Hey, we were teenagers that were trying to the best of our abilities to deal and still have fun. Don't judge us.

There was almost no one on the streets, but those who did shot us wary and hostile looks before readjusting their scarfs and pulling up the collars of their jackets and pretending they didn't look at us in the first place. The early morning sun peaked between the buildings, leaving chilly shadows that we would drive though, only to be blinded by the brilliance of a butter-yellow sun low in the sky.

The smell of rain was on the air, giving a musky smell to the pavement and showing little depressions in the asphalt where it hadn't all evaporated yet. Braeden leaned against the rear window and tilted his chin up to the sky, his stony blue eyes watching the clouds crawl across the sky slower than the tortoise from Aesop's Fables.

"People really seem welcoming, don't they?" He commented, putting his hands behind his head, the bandages wrapped and pinned around his arms and neck flapping in the brisk wind as we made our way down the avenue, turning onto Main Street. I slid across the bed of the truck as we turned, steadying myself against the side with both arms.

"This is why I don't like going out much." I remarked, watching as a mother looked at us with narrowed eyes, then picked up her toddler and hurried away. We bumped across the cracked pavement, then rolled over the speed bumps at a decelerated rate and entered the parking lot for the mostly deserted mall.

It was small, with a strange addition off one of the crosses that was almost invisible and held the laser tag maze where we used to always meet up on weekends. The staff had left that place long ago, and it was closed.

It seemed almost every good memory I had had to be brought up short with some sort of awful reality check. Well, we've moved past my nostalgic notions now, so let's forge onward. Don't worry; the action will pick up soon.

. . . . . . . . . . .

If anything, the inside of the mall was even emptier than the outside. Music from the only stores left played loudly enough to mix together and echo down every tiled hall, and the fountain in the middle was also on and loud enough to drown out the music from the shops around it.

The sun peaked through the skylights, but no shadows dared cross it and make a dark pattern on the pink and gray tiles covering the floor. There were people, sure, but maybe one customer in every third store and about a fourth had anyone manning the counter, though the gates were all open and there were plenty of clothes still left on the shelves.

Looking around, there really weren't very many stores that suited my personal taste. Most of them looked like the kind of thing a newly married, new mother, or straight A student in university would wear. I had never liked that kind of stuff, mainly because everyone already assumed I was much older than I was, so I wore graphic tees, a _lot_ of ripped jeans, and tennis shoes to make myself look like a geeky _high school_ student. Not a preppy college girl! This seemed to work, and I found stores I really preferred, like Body Central and Hot Topic, and ones I disliked strongly, like American Eagle and Hollister.

All these stores were open, so while Braeden and Donnie entered the desolate sporting goods store, Di and I entered Body Central to search for durable, but cute clothes (hey, I never said we weren't still teenage girls!). As we searched, we had a chance to catch up in what seemed like forever. But unfortunately, it began to show prominently how little we had to talk about now that we were both completely unconcerned with what our favorite actor was doing or how shocked we were that our favorite character in a book died. Eventually, our chat turned to a very prominent subject that Di always brought up in the exact tone that shallow teens use to suggest juicy gossip is about to be spilled.

"Sooo…. How things between you and Braeden?" She asked, grinning uncontrollably.

I laughed, holding up a pair of tin linen pants to my waist, smiling back at her. "I've told before, we're just friends."

"Riight. Then why are you smiling?" I immediately tried to drop the grin, but ended up giving her a face that bespoke trying not to smile and failing miserably.

"Because we've talked so often about this that it's just funny you'd still talk about it."

"Mmhm." Di gave me a skeptical glance from behind a green-and-white-striped long-sleeve. Today she was sporting two French braids with a shark tooth on a piece of untreated leather around her neck. A black camisole peeked out from beneath a cut-off white t-shirt with a black PlayStation controller on it and a short jean skirt with checkered hi-tops.

"I'm serious!" My statement was rather ruined by the fact that I started to giggle uncontrollably, her expression of unbelief so funny that I couldn't help but beam.

Suddenly, Di began to laugh, too. Our laughter certainly would have brought a clerk running had anyone still been around. The feeling of having a good laugh carried us all the way to our next store, where I quickly picked up a belt with sheet music and a scarf with a keyboard printed across it. This time, there was a cashier who smiled, his fangs shining in the spotlights overhead. It was a thing you just have to deal with after a while and we went around conducting our business, ignoring the fact that he was clearly undead. Thankfully, the music was so loud (I normally don't like any loud noises, but I made an exception) that we didn't have to say anything to him, so we just smiled politely as we left.

But as we exited the store, the glass door almost slammed shut, catching Di in the middle. I quickly put out a foot and stopped it. Di stopped, staring at me with wide eyes. Then she stepped underneath my arm and over my foot then out into the hall.

"How did you do that?" She asked me as we walked over to meet up with the guys.

"Do what?" I was genuinely confused. I had just caught a door. Nothing special, just a regular old thing anyone else could do.

"You moved like the Flash, there!" She nodded backwards to the store. "I've never seen anyone with such fast reflexes."

"Meh. You have to have fast reflexes to play against the computer in Black Ops. I just trained myself to react quickly to anything I see or hear. Hearing somebody throwing a grenade or seeing an enemy player out of the corner of your eye and not responding quickly enough could cost you a game. And you know I don't like losing."

"Yeah. You're a good sport about it, but nobody likes to lose." Di grimaced as we passed a store playing One Direction's newest single, even going so far as to cover her ears until I gave her a thumbs up. She hates mainstream music, TV, or games except for the ones that have kind of an underground base. A huge following, but you're almost sure not to hear about it without finding a hardcore fan. Think Doctor Who or Green Day.

Squeaks sounded through the mall, echoing as we passed underneath the vaulted glass ceilings and abandoned kiosks like the fruit stands in Pompeii moved beyond our sight. To pass the time, we sang a little. Now, neither of us are singers, but that doesn't stop us from making complete fools out of ourselves by singing in public. Our favorite song to sing together is by far "I Love Rock and Roll", by Joan Jett. My parents got me into eighties music and even took me to concerts where they would cover popular songs from the Reagan Years.

Di was more into them, though. The Beatles, Michael Jackson, Journey, and so on. Don't get me wrong, I'd listened to music from all of them except the Beatles (don't get mad; they just never really interested me) and even had albums from the others, but I enjoyed newer music in Rock and Alternative more.

Classical music, however…. I hate it. Despise it. My mom used to play classical music for me when I was falling asleep. Unfortunately, I used to have night terrors. Night terrors are when you have such vivid nightmares that you can't wake up, and I would just lay there, gasping and screaming while my parents made sure I didn't hurt myself. My mom said Dad thought it was funny, which always made me laugh; I was never self-conscious about it or anything. But all of that is to say classical music brings back those horrible nightmares. I still sleepwalk and such, but no more night terrors. I even figured out how to wake myself up if I didn't like where a dream was going. A very useful mechanism, I might add.

But anyway, we hummed about meeting a boy near a jukebox while we made our slow way across the mall to gather with the boys at the car. Not really a great plan, but our cell phones were for emergencies only, and who was going to bother _two_ nineteen-year-olds (okay, I was actually eighteen, but that's what comes from being born later in the year) in a place where we could scream and everyone would hear us? Plus, self-defense was something we'd learned how to do by trial and error, creating our own moves and suffering blows from one another to figure out what was the most effective. I had bruises on my arms for weeks after that.

The sun, high in the sky now, had burned away the dew, but left the air feeling heavy in my lungs, and I was practically gulping in oxygen. It just felt like nothing was being pulled in, but Di laughed when I gave particularly big inhalation.

"It does feel like we're about to suffocate, doesn't it?" A pair of big sunglasses were shielding her eyes from view and I sorely wished for a moment that I had chosen to wear contacts instead of my thick glasses that I couldn't hope to force sunglasses over. Instead, I had to make do with just pulling down my fedora's brim until it shielded my eyes for the most part from the hot sun.

"Yeah." I half breathed, half laughed, still gasping for air. We walked on for a little bit, Di guiding me because the price for not having to look into the sun meant that I couldn't see anything else.

Suddenly, my hands (held out in front of me so that I didn't hit anything) brushed against the hot metal of the truck. I turned around so that my back was to the sun and took my hat off, shaking out my hair and then giving Di a mock hurt expression that made her grin in a crazy sort of way. She was supposed to keeping me from running into anything! Including the truck!

"That's not something you laugh at." I scolded her, which of course made her burst out laughing.

Finally, she regained enough composure to impart a bit of her wisdom to me. "I realize humor isn't for everyone; it's only for those who want to have fun, enjoy life, and feel alive."

"Touché." I tapped her shoulder as if I was touching her with a sword, which made us both giggle as we climbed into the back of the truck. Besides the fact that we almost died every night, it was actually a lot of fun being one family because we got along so well together.

Di winced as she sat down cross-legged on the black plastic in the back of the truck. I didn't blame her; I could feel the heat even through my thick blue jeans (though the knees were ripped open and they were quite distressed) and it wasn't pleasant. It felt more like stepping into an oven than a hot bath. I could practically feel blisters forming on my skin, and shifting only made it worse.

"So….. how are things between you and Braeden?" She asked, waggling her eyebrows and leaning in for some juicy gossip. For the second time that day!

"I've told you before, we're _just friends_." I put stress on my statement, but Di rolled her eyes, pulling out her ponytail band and brushing her hair with her fingers, forming it into a low bun.

"Riight." A skeptical glance was cast my way. And I laughed, my cheeks flaring red.

"It's true!" I ducked my head, trying to hide the blush. Di's reaction always seemed to hit a button, even though I was telling the truth.

"Mm, hmm. You'll have to tell me all about your little outing together when we get back to the house."

"Oh, my gosh!" I laughed. Di sat back, satisfied that she had managed to embarrass me sufficiently enough for a day. She then took out her bag and began showing me all her different clothes, even though I had watched her buy them. Eventually the boys came back and we started out for our last stops of the day, Braeden and I going one way, Donnie and Di the other.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The bell rang loudly over the door as Braeden pushed it open, me following close behind. The pharmacy was decimated as if there had been a war that we hadn't known about. The destruction included a light fixture dangling over the counter and sparking menacingly, many of the aisles knocked over and almost everything on the shelves scattered about.

The lights flickered on and off, but thankfully it was light enough still that we were good.

"Damn. Is any place around here unaffected?" Braeden started picking through the remains of Aisle Three as I made my slow, careful way to the other side of the store, where the sky lights were few and far apart. The dark made it hard to see, but a tube of toothpaste or a bottle of shampoo are hard to mistake.

"Apparently not." I leaned over, the skin of my arm catching on a piece of sharp metal. Thankfully, it didn't tear, but I had to carefully move my hand to keep it that way. "It's just crazy to come in here and see it like this." I picked up a smashed can of shaving cream, then tossed it to on side, cringing at the sound it made when it clattered against the wall.

"Have you ever wondered…. How we made it this far?" This question was so unlike Braeden that I stopped stone cold, my hand about to put three toothbrushes into my backpack.

"No…" I answered slowly. "We've survived through our own hard work. It's been hard, and we've made mistakes, but we're still here, so we must be good, right?"

"I just… it's hard to tell anymore." I couldn't see Braeden anymore, but his voice sounded rather stilted and so unlike Cat's that I was suddenly afraid that the attack two days ago had left some permanent damage.

"Since that accident… I've been wondering how long it's going to be until another one of us dies."

Again I froze, a lump arising in my throat. "Don't say that!" I ordered him, my voice breaking. "Don't _ever_ say that. I… I couldn't _bear_ it… happening again." Great. The tears were coming to my eyes and I brushed them away, angry simultaneously at myself for crying and angry at Cat for making me cry.

"Look, I'm just saying, we're going to have to find a way to survive for the next stage of our lives! You and Di were going to go to college together, right? And she was going to get married and have kids, but you weren't right?"

"Stop it!" The tears were flowing down faster now, and sobs were starting to almost silently shake my body. Braeden needed to stop now. I knew how uncomfortable it made me feel when other people cried, and he was just making it worse.

"Well, what now? Di's creepy boyfriend left, we can't get out of the city, and who cares about what happens to us? The hunters? They exist to kill vamps, no matter whether they're doing any harm or not. You should know that better than anyone."

That did it. I started crying as if my heart would break. That couldn't happen, though. It was already broken. It had been broken for years, but the bandages that had been keeping it from bleeding again had just been torn with just a few spoken words. What was worse was that he was right. I _would_ know better than anyone about the hunters and about their awful habits. I wished I didn't, but I did.

The tears flowing down my cheeks, warm and wet, seemed to be drying up my heart, turning it into a hard lump of coal with nothing left but bitterness there. It sat in my chest like a banquet hall filled with the bodies of the partiers, killed by those serving them. It felt empty of anything but grief and loneliness. Why did Braeden bring up my past (at the expense of sounding cliché)? He knew and understood why it was so painful to talk about. It hurt him, too!

But his silent collecting of supplies in the shadows made it perfectly obvious he knew that he was twisting my heart in a way that he shouldn't have. Through tear-filled eyes, I looked at the bright sunlight out the window and took deep breaths that made me hiccup as I tried to get control over the emotions rolling like waves over a rock inside of me. I hated feeling miserable, and for that reason I pushed back the memories that made me feel so helpless.

_Happy thoughts…_ I took a shaky breath and forced myself to go back to picking up useful items and put them inside my backpack. I shoved myself into thinking about playing football with the other kids in high school, and the way that everyone yelled and screamed when we made a touchdown inside the gym.

The way that Duncan and Riley (the two other boys were a duo whom we were friends with, though they weren't brothers) would always somehow manage to be on the same team and were some of the best player on that team, and how once I caught the ball and turned, flying straight into Riley, who had put out his hands to touch me and therefore 'tackle' me. I almost fell over and since his hands were already out he managed to catch me. I was pressed for just a second against his chest like he was comforting me after some great tragedy. It ended up looking like a scene from one of those shitty teenage musicals where their eyes met in the middle of a clumsy moment and suddenly they can't stop thinking about each other. Thankfully, it just ended up with us laughing nervously and going back to playing against each other.

I always thought it would be nice to have a guy who liked me, as long as it wasn't Braeden. He was my best friend, and I didn't want to complicate that. Maybe because I was one of the only girls who lived close by, I thought it would make it easier, but it was never at the top of my list to get noticed. I wanted to have friends. I wanted to be well-liked by a small group of people that I got along with extraordinarily. Having a boyfriend was something that I would have liked, but I was fine with never having a romantic relationship, too.

_More cheerful thoughts…._ Oh right, my first gaming party. We got together and played a huge multiplayer first-person shooter, then played some more board games! I got second in the first round we played, only second to Braeden. Second round, I did slightly worse, coming in fourth out of twenty. Cat, or 'Boss Panda' and Bear, or 'Bear' came in above me, as did my awesome little cousin Evan. For being two years younger than me, he was mature enough to blend in seamlessly with my friends. After that, we ate some margarita pizza (cheese with basil) and then played one of Evan's favorite games: Smallworld, which is kind of like fantasy Risk. Evan dominated, but I probably came in second, right? Nope! I came in dead last. This was because I wasn't playing to win; I was playing to make sure nobody else did!

Suddenly, a little choked laugh forced its way past the tears. I wiped my eyes and giggled again.

_Okay, what else is happy?_ I searched through my memories again. It was hard, since many of those memories had been tainted by time and more recent events. There was a play that I had gone to see that was hilarious, but that was now a recollection of bitterness…. Oh! I was playing a game of spud with the other high school kids and was running the opposite way when I saw Braeden run smack into a brick wall! Everything stopped so we could all laugh at him. He was dazed, and had a cut lip, but was perfectly fine.

I realized I was laughing out loud, the sound echoing through the silent pharmacy, and I could just make out Braeden's disturbed expression. He always thought I was a psychopath, and I guess I just proved it.

His face just made me laugh even harder. My laughter continued as we exited the store, and then I explained to him what was making me laugh so hard. He cracked a smile at that.

"Your mom made you call me up and ask if I was alright later." He reminded me.

"Even though in about two hours we had soccer practice together." I snickered at the thought of his assurances he was fine. I understood exactly what he felt like. Having a very high pain tolerance, people always asked if I was alright and when I responded yes, but they didn't believe me. I had done the same thing with Cat!

He made a face at the mention of soccer. "I got bored of that after freshman year."

"But your mom still made you go." I remembered. "I was always so happy to have you around; you know I don't like people."

"And I was normally goal keeper." Braeden continued. "But most of the other players were terrible. You, Donnie, and the coach's kids were the best players."

"Yeah, I loved soccer, that's why I was so good at it. And I was the wing. I loved running the ball up and down the field, but I almost never made a goal. I wasn't a good shot for that kind of thing. I take my time and aim, but then _somebody,"_ I gave Braeden a look. "would always steal it from me."

He shrugged, like, _what can you do_? "Either way, I was fine after that run-in with the wall, but it was kind of an embarrassing moment, you know?"

I was walking closer to Cat than was absolutely necessary, mostly because while I would never brush against him on purpose, but I liked having physical contact with those I was closest to. I think that made me and Di look like lesbians a couple times, but I don't think either of us cared. But partly because I was just a bit nervous about the people roaming the streets and while I knew I would be fine in the daytime, it felt safer closer to the strongest person of the Bear Force.

There was actually really no need for it, though. The people around us gave us as much of a wide berth as Cat and I gave them. The incident in the shop had almost completely flown my mind (I hate remembering sad moments) by the time we picked up the other two of our gang. Cat was the designated driver on the way home as the sun faded in the sky.

Another beautiful sunset, but the clouds were golden and the sun a bright yellow color, not relenting on the heat even as it got later. Thankfully, though, the humidity was dissipating and I was breathing in easier. The hot, but dry air was a welcome addition, since now our sweat was evaporating instead of just leaving us looking like we'd been swimming in oil.

The breeze that was made as the truck moved through the molecules in midair, pushing between them and making my hair blow back from my face in a way that was both comfortable and annoying, since I knew I would have to fight with a brush once I got back to our house. As we sped along, we started talking some more about memories of when we were happy adolescents, and our only dreams were out of reach or years from being fulfilled.

"When we got together a lot of the other kids and played capture-the-flag at night – Di totally face planted over that fence into the neighbor's property!" Donnie, who had been on the same team with her and right by her at the time burst out laughing. The wince that Di gave and my almost forced good mood made me laugh too.

"I was trying to get to the flag without anyone else seeing!" She protested, but she grinned all the same, her red hair catching the setting sun and highlighting the gold streaks in it.

I shaded my eyes from the sun as I tried to speak over my giggles as I remembered what one of the other kids on my team had done. "Duncan… he was… in charge… of the jail… and someone put a spider…. Down his collar…." I cracked up again, and the others joined in.

Duncan, who probably would have been labeled a scene kid or a skater if we were in a public school, was one of the coolest kids I knew. We were never really friends, but more like companions. We liked each other well enough, but we just never had a circle of friends that really coincided. He had short hair in the back, but emo hair in the front (he was a solid brunette). Normally he would wear skinny jeans and a plaid button-down unbuttoned over a t-shirt, usually featuring some sort of band logo. He would always bring his skateboard wherever we went and always wore headphones around his neck. Sometimes he would wear one of those floppy hats that hippies usually wear.

Bottom line, he and I were quite different. Especially when it came to bugs. I don't like them, but Duncan _hated_ them. I flicked a stinkbug away from me during class once, unintentionally in his direction, and he scooted back so fast he fell out of his chair. Di wasn't in that class, and neither was Donnie; but Braeden was. I wondered if he remembered it. Anyway, some punk on the other team put a spider down his shirt, which made him scream so loudly that the whole field, including me, and I was near the other team's flag on the other side of the pasture, heard him. Suffice to say, all the other team got out of jail and we lost that round (Braeden was the one who retrieved the flag for their team). After that, Riley told Duncan he was off guard duty.

We swapped stories all the way back to the house where everyone helped get everything into the house (Di and I bowed out early to start making soup in the microwave). And then the boys put the shampoo and stuff into the bathrooms, but didn't touch our clothes beyond just tossing the bags into our rooms. They know better than to mess with that. Instead, they unpacked their own clothes while I poured water into plastic cups made to look like glass and Di took out and placed ceramic bowls full with chicken and dumpling soup in the microwave.

Finally, we sat down to a quiet meal that eventually was interrupted by the sudden throwing of a whole clementine. It quickly evolved in a full out war, with grapes flying like missiles, cherry seeds like bullets, and oranges like bombs being thrown at everyone; it was all-out battle and nobody was on anybody else's side. It ended abruptly when a clementine knocked over a vane standing in the corner.

We very quietly finished cleaning up the vase and dishes, then went upstairs to unpack and get ready for bed. Di and I shared the master bedroom (mostly because the boys wanted their own bedroom still; otherwise, we would have had the bunk beds) and enjoyed every second of it. We had had sleepovers frequently before she went to public school and we kind of lost touch. Sure, we were still best friends, but we just didn't call as often or go out to the movies or to the mall as frequently as we used to.

As I unpacked clothes I could hear the water running in the bathroom. The hot water was sparse, so we had made an arrangement that one of us would shower in each quarter of the day, so that there would still be hot water around for each of us. If we needed it for cooking, there was always the stove to heat it up.

Out of all of us, I think that either Di or I took the longest showers and therefore got the most irritation out of Braeden and Donnie. But since that wasn't a problem now that we had a schedule, I sang a song under my breath to make me feel energized. While I have a _terrible_ singing voice, I love to sing and it always makes me feel better. There was very little that I don't like, but this is includes (but not limited to): music that sounds too similar to others from the same time period, music from artists who have zero personality, or have no meaning other than 'I want to have a one night stand with you'.

But anyway, I flopped on the bed, letting out a comfortable 'oomph' sound. Rolling over, I stared at the overhead fan going round and round, just not thinking about anything and just enjoying the safety and comfort of my room. Whenever I used to get scared of things in my mind, I could always count on my room as my safe haven. Nothing could get in there. Even if I suddenly thought, _"What if zombies attack?"_ or _"Are there Weeping Angels outside my door?"_ I was always confident that they couldn't get in my room. And that was still true, even if it was unreasonable.

Whatever. I lay there, watching the shadows change as the fan moved for who knows how long until Di almost landed on me when she sat down to brush out her mane of curly hair. I immediately sat up, because for some reason I hated the feel of wet hair.

I slid down against the tan, plain wall on the once-white carpet as I pulled off my t-shirt. The room was enveloped in relaxing warmth, with a slight breeze coming from the ceiling fan. The blinds were closed and only the side lamps (which were wrought iron twisted into interesting shapes with a shade containing sun prints of butterflies and leaves sparsely sprinkled across it) were on, but we would have to turn it off as soon as we were both dressed for bed and had finished brushing our teeth in the blindingly white bathroom.

I pulled off my pants and folded them and my shirt meticulously before putting them in the antique dresser's left side drawers. I then gathered a set of pajamas I had gotten while out shopping that day: a black V-neck t-shirt with an appliqued sparkly pink heart on it, pants with black versions of the same heart on a pink background, and a white tank top to put underneath it.

Finally, I crawled into bed and turned off the light, falling almost straightaway to sleep because of the long day, combined with the lack of sound from outside and the absence of lights in any part of the house or outdoors.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Sometime during the night, the bell sounded. At first, I thought I was just dreaming, but then it sounded again. Di wasn't going to get it; I could tell that just from how she burrowed deeper into the covers with every ring. The boys probably hadn't even heard it, so it was up to me to answer it. Being half-asleep at the time, I didn't even think of the risk as I shuffled downstairs, running my hands through my bedraggled hair and yawning. I almost fell over from a head rush that left me virtually blind on the steps. My glasses didn't make it any easier to adjust to the (relatively) harsh light from the front entryway light. When I opened the door, guess who was standing there?

A tall man dressed in nineteenth century clothes and wearing a hat bowed cordially to me, standing there in pjs, with blue hair, a tattoo and glasses, blinking blearily at him. Putting his hat on formally, he asked politely, "I'm sorry to interrupt your sleep, but might I talk with Misses Quinn Berkley, Diana West, and Misters Braeden and Donald Seacrest?"

For a moment I just stood there looking at him in a bit of a stupor before turning around and yelling for the others to come down and join me.


	4. Brendon-the-Vampire Isn't That Bad

**A/N: This one took longer than expected. I apologize to my two readers for not getting this up last week. Please forgive me. Anyway, is anyone else going to go to any of FOB's concerts this year? Hopefully I am, but cross your fingers for me. My editor, K. J., I thank again for her help.**

"_The city is at war,_

_Ignore me if you see me,_

'_Cause I just don't give a shit"_

_ -"The City is at War", Cobra Starship_

. . . . . . . . . . .

Truthfully, Quinn had never been good at paying attention when she was tired, but the young man in the fancy clothes on her front porch managed to convey the fact that his 'king' (that's the impression she got, anyway) would like to talk to her and the rest of the household. As drowsy as the blue-haired teen was, she thought nothing of inviting him in to sit while she tried (emphasis on _tried_) to get the others out of bed. If she was the only one who heard the doorbell, as loud as it was, there were a limited number of ways she could get them out of bed.

Yawning and shuffling, Quinn climbed the dark stairwell upstairs like a zombie, her eyes blinking slowly as she pushed open the guys' bedroom door. Braeden was sprawled over his sheets, obviously too warm to curl up underneath the coverings. Donnie, while not putting a quilt on his bed, had his thin sheets pulled up snuggly around his neck. The breathing of the two boys was almost silent, but deep. They were clearly very comfortable in the world of dreams, but Quinn had had trouble ever leaving that realm, even when she was awake. As it was, she shook Braeden's shoulder, watching his calm features twist in sleepiness as he tried to bat her off.

His arm flailing was easy to dodge, and it only made Quinn more determined. How _dare_ he just keep on sleeping when she had had to get up even before him and answer the door? Again she shook his shoulder, her long fingers curled around his bicep as if it was a banister she was swinging off of. Braeden's brown eyes opened slightly. When he saw the outline of Quinn in the light of the stars, he moaned.

"It's too early…." He turned to face the wall, leaving Quinn staring at the back of his spiky blond head. Setting her mouth, she tugged him back over with some difficulty.

"Caaaatttt….." Her voice was almost more pleading than his. "There's someone downstairs who wants to talk to us."

"Tell him to come back later." Braeden's mumbled words barely made it past his pillow.

"I don't think he will. Come oooonnnnn….." Quinn pulled again, but this time made it past her mark. She leapt back as the older boy fell out of bed and hit the floor with a thump that shook the whole house. It definitely woke up Donnie, who sat up so quickly he bumped his head on the ceiling.

"Ow!" Donnie rubbed his skull as he looked down in confusion on the scene below him: His brother on the floor and slowly stirring, with Quinn standing next to him with her arms crossed. She was no longer tired – she was annoyed. They needed to _get up._

"Guy downstairs. Wants to talk. You'd better be down in sixty seconds. I'm going to go get Di." Quinn stomped out in a flurry of blue matted hair and thick glasses. The tow brothers looked at each other.

"We could just go back to sleep…" Braeden mused.

"Yes, we could…." Donnie agreed.

"But then Q would murder us in our sleep."

"Getting up is sounding better and better." Donnie grabbed his glasses from the bedpost and hopped down.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Once they were all assembled in the living room, the gentleman (Quinn didn't want to call him that; it made him sound old. But he seriously looked like something out of a Jane Austen novel! Not that she minded, but she'd never liked romantic comedies) arose with a flourish and said in a cordial voice, "The Baron would like to invite Miss Quinn Berkley, Miss Diana West, and Misters Braeden and Donald Seacrest to his mansion on the eighteenth of June, two o'clock. Shall you accept it, I have transportation waiting outside."

Quinn blinked in surprise. "The Baron? Isn't he just a myth?" There had been talk about a sophisticated vampire of deadly force that hunted in the shadows and always got what he wanted. With this knowledge, she took a closer look at the man she had let into their home.

Long-ish blond hair, a special hat and dressed up as if about to go to a fancy ball. Pale skin, deep pools of eyes (they seemed to be taking up his entire face) and… yep, there were the fangs that flashed in the light from the lamps and overhead lights.

_Great job – you just let a vampire into our sanctuary._ Quinn berated herself. Thankfully, he seemed rather uninterested in killing, so Quinn held off on reaching for the stake on the side table next to a seashell lamp. It was close enough that she could reach it if she needed to, though.

The vampire's eyes darted to the stake, too. His dark brown (almost black) eyes took it in with almost no emotion and then he was smiling at Quinn again, ignoring the almost asleep other members. She doubted they even comprehended what was being said.

"Well, just because something's a myth, doesn't mean it's not true." He said in a voice as smooth as silk. The vamp seemed very aware that Quinn was prepared if he tried anything and respected her for it.

"Touché." Quinn glanced at the others, who were now asleep. At least, their eyes were closed and she was fairly sure that they weren't just gathering their thoughts.

"What's the catch?" She asked warily. A legend was asking her (the fact that he had invited all of them had completely flown her) over was enough to put anyone on edge, but the fact that it was vampire legend and a vamp was sitting in her living room didn't help her comfort level.

The vampire looked at her with a calm expression; it seemed as if nothing could faze him. "There is no catch. The Baron simply wants to talk to your small unit. And as for why in the middle of the night, well, that's rather self-explanatory, is it not?"

Quinn pushed up her glasses with one hand, running her tongue over her teeth. She lingered on her canines, feeling the sharp arrow-like shape. The denim couch she was sitting on was worn and faded, but comfortable. It felt a bit like wrapping up in a blanket to watch football (or at least the way she watched it: paying attention to the commercials and eventually falling asleep only to wake up and ask what the score was after the game): cozy and relaxing, but alert enough that she could still focus. In this case she wasn't paying attention to a bunch of men running at each other, but a sophisticated predator who seemed well-satisfied, but you never knew when a lion sleeping was going to awake and attack.

He looked strange sitting in the worn plaid chair, with green painted walls in the background and the company's items strewn on the floor. His fancy dress, including gloves and shiny shoes that looked like something that Mr. Darcy would wear, made him look like he would blend right in at the Queen's palace, but certainly not as at ease as he looked in the run-down home of four teenagers.

There wasn't much to say about the living room, which Quinn had suddenly found very interesting; she had never been good at talking with people. Going to new places she normally brought a journal to sketch or write in, rather than find somebody new to talk with. Her father once made her attend a woman's monthly brunch, which led to many tears, as she wasn't allowed to bring a notebook and the people that she talked to would turn and talk to other people in the middle of a conversation with her. Quinn didn't mind being invisible, if that's the way she started out. When people decided to ignore her after she had already made herself known to them, that hurt.

The vamp didn't say anything, just watched her silently, as the only sounds echoing in the room were the ticking of the clock and the breathing from Donnie, Braeden, and Di, who sat on a love seat in the corner and the two boys on the other side of the denim couch Quinn sat on, picking at the fraying threads and trying to find something to fill the void. The silence stretched on, getting more and more awkward and getting harder and harder to break.

Finally, she made a split second decision and stood up abruptly. "I'll come. Just me. Not the others."

"Very well then." The vampire stood up and brushed his coat off. "If you'll follow me outside."

Quinn trailed behind him to a car waiting outside. He opened the door and held it for her. Thanking him politely, Quinn got in the car and sat on the far side. He got in and sat closest to the door they got in through. An open seat was between them, so there wasn't any awkward brushing of thighs or anything like that.

As the car started up (another fancily dressed most-likely-a-vampire was driving), the vampire turned to her and gave her a calm smile, though she now noticed how much fidgeting he was actually doing. His hands wound over and over each other, his leg jumped up and down in an impatient movement, and he was constantly touching his hair, ruffling it or just combing it back.

"I'm Brendon." He offered, holding out a hand to her. Quinn shook it, but felt rather disconnected to it, because of his gloves.

"Quinn." She responded, pushing up her glasses. It occurred to her that he already knew her name because he had read off each other their names when inviting them to meet the Baron, but she couldn't take it back.

"The Baron must be very interested in you to invite you to a meeting like this." Brendon-the-vampire commented. "I've only seen him so fascinated by one other group – and he never sent them an invitation!"

Quinn, who was brushing through her tangled hair with her fingers, stopped to ask, "Who?"

"Oh, those hunters. I'm sure you've heard of them." He gave her a look for signs of recognition as he continued. "They're a group of four, and have a surprisingly low number of deaths on their hands for being hunters."

"You mean they're terrible vampire hunters?" Quinn asked incredulously. She had a pretty good idea of which hunters Brendon-the-vampire was talking about, but she was waiting to reveal that she knew the group he was talking about.

"No – exactly the opposite!" Brendon's eyes roamed across Quinn's face, looking for any tells she knew whom he was talking about. Thankfully for him, it was dark enough in the car that she couldn't see his eyes. The lights from the few street lamps still functioning slanted through the window, moving in white strips across Quinn's lap. Brendon noticed the tightening of her fists, which were resting in her lap. But she was looking out at the streets as they passed by, her lips (a dusty rose color, almost sickly looking) were pressed in a thin line and she was avoiding his gaze, only moving her hands to push up her glasses or fiddle with her long hair.

Still watching her face closely, Brendon continued, "Vampires are considered legally dead, right? We don't have a heartbeat, and we technically don't have to breath."

Quinn turned quickly to face him, her eyes wide beneath the thick frames of her glasses. "You don't? I didn't know that."

Brendon shrugged, putting his palms up. "Well, now you do. Anyway, we're dead. So that means that they're basically just killing corpses. What I mean is that they've been surprisingly adept at not causing collateral damage."

The blue-haired girl made a sound that was halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "All hunters should have that skill. I would feel a lot less grief over them if that was true." Brendon waited, but she didn't elaborate. Her voice had sounded bitter and angry, but her face (the part visible – the dragon darkened the side facing the street so much it seemed to melt into the darkness inside the car) was calm and reserved.

Deciding to ignore her comment, Brendon asked, "How long have you been in a group with the others?"

She turned to look at him, a passing street lamp reflecting off her glasses and making it impossible to see her blue eyes. "Why should I tell you?" It wasn't hostile, but plainly just curious. Like she was asking, _"What's the point of that question?"_

"Humor me. I'm interested just as much as you are about the Baron's interest in a group of adolescents."

"Fair enough." Quinn conceded. There was quiet for a moment, then she answered, "It's been about two years."

"Were you on your own before?"

"No. I was with Di and – and someone else." Brendon picked up on the stumble, but pretended like he hadn't.

"You must have been, what, seventeen when this all started?"

"Fifteen." He was corrected, which made him raise an eyebrow.

"How did you survive?"

"Easy." The lights outside flashed across her face, but now her intense eyes (in terms of expression – the colors were beautiful, but not unusual) were fixed on him. "You make everyone believe you're going to kill them in the middle of the night."


	5. The Baron's Non-agressiveness

**A/N: K.J. Callahan edited this for me once again. Also, she chose the song lyrics for today.**

_. . . . . . . . . . ._

"_I don't like walking around this old and empty house_

_So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear_

_The stairs creak as I sleep, it's keeping me awake_

_It's the house telling you to close your eyes"_

_-Of Monsters and Men, "Little Talks"_

. . . . . . . . . . .

Stepping out of the car, Quinn looked around with interested glances and light touches. As Brendon (who wasn't really all that bad, though after their conversation in the car had been strangely quiet and sending disconcerting looks her way) led her up to the whole mansion, she caught herself before saying it looked like the X-Mansion from the X-Men comics. She was _way_ too old to still be fantasizing about being part of a fictional group in which she would be hated by most of the world.

The mansion was made of tan bricks, with four lions made of stone snarling at her in front of the steps to the mahogany doors. The doors were carved with many figures and weird writing, but Quinn didn't have time to read it, she was so busy looking up at the large towers and gargoyles. When Brendon opened the front door, that's when she noticed that the handle was a lion's head. She brushed her fingers along it. Suddenly, her fingers touched against something cold and soft and definitely _not_ the doorknob.

Jerking her hand back abruptly, she looked at Brendon, who flashed her a mischievous smile. He finished pushing the door open all the way, and then offered her the hand she had accidently brushed.

Quinn gave him a playful glare, though a grin slowly spread across her face. His smile was just so infectious that she felt compelled to return it. She placed her slender (though very shabby looking – she had a habit of picking at her cuticles) fingers in his big hand. It was rough and reminded her of her grandfather's work worn hands, but his were still young; Brendon probably was only ten years older than her if he hadn't been bitten. But it was hard to know how old vampires were without asking. He probably had known her grandfather.

The vampire led Quinn through the great hall, which was enough to take her breath away. The polished black-and-white tiles shone in the combined candlelight and electric lighting. Tall columns of peachy marble held a navy blue vaulted ceiling up, the ceiling covered in tiny gold seven-pointed stars. A quiet bustle of people dressed in varying degrees of finery from the late 19th century or early 20th century moved around – more than she had seen in town last time that she'd been there. They didn't give her a second glance, either (the people in town always gave a double-dosing of hostile eyes whenever the group went in).

Brendon smiled proudly as she looked around. "Pretty impressive, don't you think?"

"If only I had a camera or something." Quinn replied breathlessly. "How in the world did nobody find out about this place?"

"Ah." Brendon winked, leading her further into the house. "That's a trade secret."

"Okay." Quinn was too enraptured to really care that he hadn't answered her question, instead focusing on the many statues, beautiful paintings, and complete lack of interest in her by the others. It was refreshing and felt good.

When she was thirteen, the then dirty-blonde Quinn had said she was a self-proclaimed bookmouse. A cross between a bookworm and a mouse, a bookmouse was characterized by always bringing a notebook or book to a social event and then becoming completely invisible no matter how obviously they sat. Now she was having a taste of it again, and it felt _so_ good to be able to move through a place without anyone noticing.

Suddenly, Quinn realized she was wearing her thick glasses, her hair was tangled, and she was wearing pajamas. Not to mention her hair was _blue_ and she had a very obvious tattoo on her face. Panicking, she voiced her concerns to Brendon, who laughed out loud in an infectious way, though for some reason it sounded like a shy laugh, of someone who doesn't talk that often and is unused to attention. He seemed pretty extroverted in the car though, but Quinn put those questions away for later.

"Do you think the Baron expects you to be dressed up when we woke you up in the middle of the night? He at least understands _human_ sleep cycles." Brendon put a lot of emphasis on 'human', as if many vampires had forgotten what it was to be like Quinn's race. Still seeing a worried look on the teen's face, he hurried to reassure her even more. "Don't worry about it. If you'd like me to, I'll see if the Baron would let me sit in."

Quinn, rather than feel grateful or ask him if he was sure, nodded immediately. She gave a sigh of relief when they reached the main doors and Brendon stayed right next to her the whole time. She took a minute to look up at the ornately carved doors (she was sure that they were made out of some very expensive wood and – wait, was that _gold leaf?_) and look at Brendon, who for some reason felt like the person she trusted most in the world.

She nodded at him and he pushed the doors open.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Whatever Quinn was expecting from the Baron, it certainly hadn't included a boy around her own age. But as soon as she saw his eyes, she immediately stopped calling him a boy in her mind. There were ancient and menacing, but clever at the same time. A fox in human form would probably have those same eyes. But for all his eyes looked like, he certainly looked young.

His hair (a deep brown color) hung to his shoulders in slight waves (more than Quinn could make her hair do, it was so straight) and his face was young and rather girlish looking, as if half-way through God decided he wanted a boy instead of a girl but decided not to trash his rough sketch. He was wearing the same kind of hat as Brendon, though his was even fancier. The Baron wore a short black cloak that swirled around his waist and a fancy fur was draped over one shoulder.

He was shorter than average, but not by much, and he wore white gloves and a cane was propped next to his chair. One thing that really stood out to Quinn, though, was the fact that he had a small dark mark next to his left eye that was shaped like a heart. Rather than look at his eyes (which understandingly frightened her) Quinn fixed her eyes on that dark place.

Brendon bowed, and Quinn quickly followed suit. Respect seemed rather key to surviving this encounter.

"My lord." Quinn jerked her head to look at Brendon, whose eyes were fixed on the ground. Since when did he have a British accent? But he wasn't sparing her any glances.

"Only Ms. Berkley consented to come back with me, and on the condition that I stay in her presence at all times."

_Well, in not quite so elegant terms._ Quinn agreed silently. It was almost disconcerting to see how easily Brendon slipped from comforting companion to cold and aloof servant to a legend.

"Very well." The Baron's voice surprised her, too. She had imagined it to be high and girlish as well (at least higher than her own voice which, though not unnaturally deep, was fairly low for a girl), but instead it sounded normal, if in a dignified English accent that put her at ease and on edge simultaneously. Quinn had had an affection for Loki (played by Tom Hiddleston) when she was younger and that made her feel at ease, but too many bad guys in movies were played by Brits to put her in a comfortable position.

"Please, sit." She looked up to see the Baron gesturing to two seats (two more were on the other side, presumably for the rest of the Bear Force) next to a table filled with what looked like fixings for some sort of drink and a suspiciously red liquid in a crystal flask about the same size as a sports water bottle.

Cautiously Quinn stepped closer to him, but still took the embroidered and elaborately carved chair furthest from him, having Brendon sit closest to him. Quinn itched to put out a hand and for him to grasp it, but held back. She'd never been good at judging how much physical contact she or the other person wanted. Instead, she shifted in the red-cushioned chair until she was sitting cross-legged, her hands clasped around her ankles with the tenseness of someone who's just waiting for a hailstorm of words to beat them to the ground.

But the Baron's first words were, "Would care for some tea?" He gestured to the pot and cups on the table. "Some of the men here haven't developed a taste for the finer beverages, so normally I drink alone."

"Um, sure." Quinn agreed with some trepidation. She loved tea, but her mother used to give her grief about how much sugar she put in it. For the sake of not looking like a glutton, Quinn resolved to only ask for two lumps of sugar when asked.

But strangely, the Baron put _three_ lumps in before even asking her. He stirred it with one calm, gloved hand before handing her a cup and saucer decorated with gold leaf and roses and birds. Quinn thanked him politely and took a sip. Maybe not as sweet as she liked it, but she could choke it down.

"Now, let us begin…"

. . . . . . . . . . .

They talked for hours. It eventually became easier to talk to the Baron, who was very genteel and polite. Quinn talked about how she and Di managed to survive on their own (leaving out some painful details), about Braeden and Donnie and about how they were always her closest guy friends. She even told him about Braeden and her short-lived mutual crush (she had gotten over being embarrassed about it long ago).

He talked about what life was like back in the early 1900's, when he had first been bitten (of course, he called it something much grander, but that was what had happened, plain and simple). He talked about the Great Depression and about the eighties, which interested Quinn greatly. Her parents' and some of her favorite music had come from that era and though the Baron confessed that he hadn't ever really been into that type of music, he tried his best and answered her questions and listened to her problems.

It was surreal to have someone she didn't fear telling the fact that she might be a sociopath or psychopath to, or the fact that sometimes her most disturbing dreams were her favorite. The Baron and Brendon listened and told things about themselves back to her. Of course, the Baron seemed more like the much older brother who's away at college and rather unreachable while Brendon was much more like her other guy friends, though he would rather talk, or, as she discovered, play guitar and sing, than go outside for a game of soccer.

The night passed quickly, until Brendon interrupted the conversation by yawning loudly, trying to cover it up but failing. The Baron looked up at a clock the size of a small dining room table and exclaimed in surprise.

"I'm sorry to have kept you here all night Ms. Berkley. It's almost light out now! I'll have Spencer drive you back home. Maybe we could talk again tomorrow night?" He kissed her hand, his ancient eyes sparkling with intelligence. Quinn smiled in an embarrassed way; not even her grandfather had given her such a send off. Sure, at fifteen he still swung her around like a little girl and kissed her goodbye. They would curl up on the couch and watch Hercule Poirot together, his arm either around her or in her lap, her fingers running over and over his work-worn hands. But he had _never_ kissed her hand goodbye.

"I guess so… there's really nothing else I was planning to do." Quinn wasn't lying, but it was just an excuse at the same time. Who knew that two strangers (okay, she had spent a whole night talking to them and quite clearly couldn't call them strangers anymore, but they certainly would never be friends, because that was reserved for the Bear Force) – vampires at that – could be such nice company?

"Excellent!" The Baron seemed quite pleased. He gave her a small smile, more of a grin, really, as Brendon ushered her out to the car. "I hope to see you again soon!"

"Me too!" Quinn hurriedly followed Brendon out through the huge hallways. As they went, she asked him, "How is it that everyone thinks he's such a bad guy? I had such a great time!"

"Perhaps they don't stop to talk to him before making assumptions." Brendon suggested, sliding them both through a clump of what looked like two of the Baron's men and about half a dozen servants.

"Yeah, I know what that's like." Quinn snorted, her entire statement soaked in poisonous acrimony.

"Do you?" Brendon asked mildly, opening the door for her outside.

"Mmhm." She didn't elaborate on it and they stood in the rather chilly breeze of the early morning, carrying with it a scent of another hot day. The sky overhead was still speckled with stars and the moon like a huge silver pendant catching the light of the sun shone overhead, but in the east the deep blue sky was turning shades of teal green and a subdued purple.

The grounds were just as impressive as the house, and Quinn observed them in the pale morning light with interest part derived from their beauty and half from a concentration of not talking to Brendon about making assumptions.

The pale cobblestones at the base of the stairs to the front doors (in front of the lions) was already swept clean and there was a circular drive filled with white and off-white pebbles curving up to the front of the mansion and then curving back to the road – Quinn didn't know where in town they were, but she could see the road in the distance: an expanse of black pavement that cut through the desert like a knife.

In the middle of the circular driveway was a small garden, and she could hear a fountain trickling, though she couldn't see it in the middle of the white gazebo or courtyard or whatever was at the middle of the mess of vines and foliage (some containing quite beautiful flowers). There were dusty red bricks leading into the middle of the jungle, and along both sides of the driveway were many different gold (maybe fake gold, but it glittered coldly in the morning light) statues, each holding a lantern that was lit and flickered with enthusiasm. Maybe they didn't know that soon they would all be outshone by something much more powerful, but the flames looked happy and alive for the time being.

"Maybe sometime we can go into the _actual_ gardens." Quinn looked back at the slim vampire. He shrugged. "You seemed enthralled by the little one, so maybe the bigger one would impress you even more."

"There's _more_?" Quinn asked unbelievingly. How far on did the Baron's property go?

"He's been building up his empire for over a century, Quinn. What did you expect?" The use of her first name didn't slip past her and she gave him a look that said, "_why haven't you been using it this whole time?"_

Brendon rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "The Baron's made it clear we have to act like perfect little gentleman whenever we're in his presence. Talk about the most classy objects of all time. Maybe the Mona Lisa would interest him."

"That would probably catch his interest. Maybe you could write him a song? I'd love to hear it."

Brendon laughed at that. "Yeah… guitars are too late 20th century for him. But maybe you could help me at some point?"

"Really?" Quinn looked at him, pushing her glasses further up her nose. He didn't seem to be kidding. "I'm not that good…"

"Let me be the judge of that." He winked at her, then continued. "Of course, we'll need bass and drums at least. Maybe even another guitar player."

"You make it sound like we're making a band, not writing a song. I should also warn you that I've never written a _song_ before. Stories, sure. But never a _song_."

Brendon shrugged, taking off his hat to slick his hair back and then putting it back on. "Maybe we should make a band. It would be a lot of fun." He looked at her with a lot of hinting in his gaze.

"I'd love to," Quinn began. "but I've got my own group that I'm loyal to first and foremost. I could be one of your featured artists if you're that dead set on me performing with you. I can't just be expected to drop everything for a night to record with you guys. You _do_ remember I'm not one of you, right? I still sleep at night and work during the day."

"Yeah, yeah." He mumbled. The sun was coming closer to bathing the whole estate in light. Brendon was obviously a little nervous, though he stoically refused to go inside until Spencer (the person that the Baron had said was bringing the car around) pulled up. It was rather admirable of him, really.

The golden statues' lanterns were being snuffed out one by one as the sunrise approached. It was only about a three minute wait after the last one (a siren on a rock holding the lantern over the ledge to peer underneath her rock) became darkness for the same car that took the blue-haired teen there to pick her up.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" She called out as she got into the car. The pale boy waved her until the car turned onto the road. He waited a few more seconds, then disappeared back into the mansion as the sun peaked over the horizon.


	6. There's Romance in the Air (Not)

**A/N: SOOOOO….. I'm sorry! I have a lot to get done and I've just been ignoring this. I really have been trying to get it up. Oh, on another note, this is no longer a prequel to Yellowfur's story. It shares some of the same characteristics, but it is my own timeline now. K.J. Callaham has once again chosen the lyrics.**

. . . . . . . . . . .

"_No doors exist on my fortress_

_The only entrance is the one I bear_

_You're nothing more than a temptress_

_I fell victim to a heartless snare"_

_ -"I'd Rather Drown", Set It Off_

. . . . . . . . . . .

The sunrise had barely started when I walked back into our small two-story townhouse. Di was passed out on the chair, curled up with her head on her knees, and Donnie and Braeden were so entangled it was hard to tell who was who. I got out a plaid fleece blanket and spread across the two boys, grabbing a smaller quilt made with all pink scraps of fabric to cover up Di with before stumbling upstairs.

My breath smelled like tea so I stopped by in the bathroom and brushed thoroughly, feeling slightly more awake (unfortunately) after spitting out the minty toothpaste that left my mouth feeling completely refreshed. It was hard to drag myself out of the bathroom and close the curtains tight against the golden sun, but I managed it before falling into bed and getting a very strange and rather forgettable dream.

Suffice to say that I woke up with a strange feeling in my gut and a very dry throat that I needed to quench immediately. Since I was still tired, I lay in bed for another ten minutes waking myself up before going downstairs and getting the orange juice out of the refrigerator. There was a hustle and bustle in the dining room, and I could hear the sounds of silverware clacking together and drinks being put down on the wooden table with a queer kind of clank. The sun was very high up in the sky and actually kind of blinded me where it reflected off the wooden planks.

I put up my hand to block it, walking into the dining room, where the others were having pancakes. There were still plenty on the plate in the middle of the table, so I knew that they had just been put out. There was absolutely now way Di would've been able to keep enough for everyone to have seconds and for me to eat too just by telling Braeden and Donnie that it needed to happen that way. I sat down, putting two of the smaller pancakes on my plate and took the butter and began spreading.

"Good morning." I greeted them pleasantly.

"Good afternoon." Di corrected. "You were passed out upstairs earlier. How did shopping wear you out so much?"

"You were sleep-walking last night." Donnie managed to remain legible around a mouthful of syrup and pancake. "You got all of us out of bed and into the living room. Braeden was afraid you were going to murder us."

"Hey!" Braeden threw a clementine and knocked Donnie's glasses askew. "You were, too!"

"Fair enough." Donnie straightened his glasses and picked up the fruit, using his jagged and dirty fingernails to peel it before taking a slice and offering it to Di, who declined and opened her fruit the same way I did: taking a serrated knife and making a x at one end then sticking the knife right underneath the skin and forcing it upwards. She then took hold of the edge of the peel and pulled it off.

Di offered me half and I took it, thanking her. The orange fruit was some of my favorite in the whole world and if Di was willing to give me half of hers and I got another whole one all to myself, I was going to take it.

"So… you were scared of me?" I asked teasingly, popping a whole clementine slice in my mouth.

"Hell, yes." Braeden stopped in the middle of spreading peanut butter on his second helping of pancakes to point the peanut-covered knife at me. "I thought we'd already gone over this. You're a psychopath who's going to kill us all in our sleep at some point."  
"No, she's going to tie us down and remove all our non-vital organs and make us eat them. _Then_ she'll kill us. In a fire." Donnie amended, grinning at us as Di shuddered and I tapped my chin thoughtfully.

"I was maybe thinking of listing the help of a bunch of little kids to beat you to death, but I like Donnie's idea better."

"Kids are freaking terrifying." Di announced. "Believe me, having three younger sisters and one little brother really teach you about nightmarish situations. The worst being when they're hyped on caffeine and then get angry at you for not letting them watch My Little Pony."

"I'm assuming this was before Jeff turned you into a pegasister?" I confirmed.

"Wait. You were a pegasister?" Cat looked up from his engrossing task of cutting his stack of three pancakes as Donnie snorted into his orange juice (which he had poured after I had grabbed the jug for the table).

"Uh, yeah." Di was giving him the 'you're stupid' vibe (not to mention her arms were crossed in a defensive stance) very clearly, especially with her tone of voice. "Jeff and I used to watch My Little Pony together. It was a really cute show."

"And this is why we stopped hanging out." I set down the syrup bottle with finality.

. . . . . . . . . . .

I was upstairs later in the afternoon after a good, long nap. I had even snuck a Coke out of the refrigerator so that I wouldn't fall asleep on Brendon that evening. But nobody should ever underestimate the perception of Di West. She came in and tackled me onto the bed (which had been made; we both had one rule and that was the bed was always made when we got up).

I was on the bottom and her long red hair was trailing all over my face and making me struggle and shake my head back and forth trying to get it away. She giggled as I struggled, her hands holding onto my wrists and she was straddling me, making any dirty fighting I wanted to try with my legs impossible. Not even pulling my legs up, crossing them across her neck and locking my ankles behind her head, then forcing her head backwards would work. She was too tall and too far forward on my stomach for me to reach.

It was disconcerting how ticklish her hair was, but then I got an idea. I bit down on it, using my tongue to work more and more of it into my mouth. When it was nice and tight, I threw my head backward, pulling her hair with my teeth as hard as possible.

"Ouch!" Di screeched, one hand letting go of my wrist to alleviate the tension in her hair. I spat out the mouthful of red hair and used my one free hand to push her off of me. We spent a good fifteen minutes after that trying to pin one another down on the bed, but neither of us succeeded. Eventually we called a truce and sat there, panting and laughing between breaths.

"So, where are you going later?" Di asked.

Now, I hadn't felt like letting the boys know that I was going out with a vampire to a vampire's palace (boys seem to always overreact on those types of things), and left them thinking I had just been sleep-walking. But Di would understand, or at least would support me (I hoped).

"Um, I'm going out tonight with a vampire. We're going to go and see the gardens." I deliberately left out where the gardens were, as that might freak her out just a little too much. Of course, she gave me a worried look. Even after I explained more fully, she sat back on her heels and gave me skeptical glance.

"Don't say that!" I complained. "I'm not dating him! He's really nice, really."

"I know that you know better than me about when to get out of a relationship, Q." Di laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder, then slid it until her arm draped across my shoulders. I leaned into it, laughing to myself at how very much we looked like lesbians as we were. Thankfully, nobody was around to see it, so it didn't matter.

"But…. Just be careful. Okay?" I nodded and gave her a hug. Di was always on my side.

. . . . . . . . . . .

There was no way that Brendon had anticipated the gorgeous sky. If he had, it would have been that much more impressive.

It was a dark blue high in the sky and a slight greenish tint around the horizon as if the atmosphere was fraying at the ends. The constellations were bright against the sky and they twinkled like diamonds in the sky, and I'm not just using that metaphor, I mean it. Imagine picking up a bunch of teeny tiny diamonds and holding them up to the light, each one catching it in a different way and ebbing and flowing when you move and shift the pile in your palm. Maybe it's easier to imagine it with sequins or rhinestones, but the stars were way too pretty to be compared to such common objects.

The trees stood out on the horizon away from the city, where they bristled like a brush far away and scraped against the frayed threads of the sky. To the opposite of the trees, the city's black blocks with smoke holding the light from below in the midst of the town as it rose to dissipate in the sky, a brownish gray mass of despair.

There was definitely some kind of war going on within the city limits; even from here I could hear the cries and snarls of the vampires. I was glad that we weren't going there tonight, though I felt safer around Brendon for certain and probably would've been fine going in if Brendon and whoever was driving us (I think his name was Spencer) stayed close at all times.

I didn't exactly know when Brendon was supposed to arrive, so I splayed myself out on the dry grass on the lawn, already parched in the harsh Californian sun and still warm from the heat of the day. My hair was prickling underneath my neck, so I pushed it out and made a halo of blue hair for myself on the ground.

For how casual this was supposed to be, I was really dressed up. I was wearing black lace-up boots that reached to my knees and were skintight (I couldn't have tucked in jeans even if I tried) with blue tights that were a strange color of blue about the same as faded denim, but it was solid and dull. Think of a doctor's office and what kind of dark blue they would use in there and imagine it still in the bucket, no chipped spots and no weird pockmarks in the walls showing.

I was wearing a thigh-length skirt that was maroon corduroy and had designs on it like a Victorian-era chair or like in an old house what the wallpaper would be like. The denim button up shirt I was also sporting had ends akin to a baseball jersey (short on the sides, long in the front and back) and was un-tucked over the skirt. I was wearing a Batman t-shirt with the symbol for him in black and gold faux-sequin appliques on underneath the button-up. The final thing I was wearing was my special tribal necklace (the one I mentioned previously).

Thankfully, everything was easily washable in our community washer and dryer, so I wasn't worried about them getting spoiled. Another thing about me: I _hate_ getting dressed up. I wish I did, but I don't. I like the idea, but once I'm actually dressed all I want is out.

When I was fifteen (you remember fondly your last teenage year before the apocalypse), my friend had a masquerade party for her birthday, because she loved Phantom of the Opera. I made my own mask (which was a ton of fun) and my mom let me use her old prom dress, which was pink and frilly and currently hanging up with the mask inside my closet inside the house. Anyway, I wore that dress with scuffed and worn 90's Skechers that were completely oval. The bases were flat and the shoe did not have any fancy curves in it or anything. Think of the difference between an old Buggy and a Jaguar. The Buggy is those shoes, with solid lines and very block-like structure, and the Jaguar are my pink running shoes, with melded shapes like a stroke of paint. My mom said I was going all Sixteen Candles, after a movie from before I was born (I've never seen it, but she said it was good), and I told everyone about it because I thought it was funny.

I had a great time at that party, but thankfully I could get home and out of that dress before midnight. I think I never had a Princess themed birthday in my life! My fourteenth birthday party we had in October (my birthday's actually in late August), and my neighbors, Di, Braeden and Bear all showed up and we just played Frisbee all afternoon in our jeans and t-shirts. That's just me in general – I'd rather have a casual day than a fancy ball any day.

There was a slight rumbling in the distance, more reverberating against my head than through the airwaves. I sat up, my hair flying everywhere as I scrambled to be standing at the edge of the driveway when Brendon and Spencer pulled up. They quickly turned the corner onto my street and Brendon pushed open the door before they had even stopped. I was in and pulling the door closed before Spencer even stepped on the brakes and we were off, Brendon and I laughing and talking about music and stuff…. Mostly music, though. I tried to get Spencer's opinion, but the driver merely gave me one word answers and I gave up.

Spencer was cute, in a teddy bear kind of way. He was shorter than Brendon and stockier than even Donnie (actually, they were about even; Spencer was just taller, so it was more spread out) with combed and carefully styled hair. He had a small beard that gave me the impression he was older than either Brendon or myself. Even so, Brendon seemed to know him well and made sure to talk and ask questions, though mostly he focused on me.

Brendon was wearing what looked like a more casual version of what he wore yesterday night. A loose white shirt with tight cuffs around his wrists that made it look like his hands were the inside of a flower and the shirt was the petals. It was a V-necked shirt with laces back and forth across it till just below his solar plexus. He was also wearing some sort of black material for pants and thick-soled black boots.

He looked like a pirate and I told him so. Brendon threw back his head and laughed. I started giggling, too. I sounded like a shallow girl in a romantic comedy where everything makes me wonder or dissolve into laughter. But thing was, well… I wasn't in love with Brendon. Shocker, right? I met him a day ago and really liked his personality and sense of humor, but I wasn't in love with him! I've never been in love before, and I wasn't about to start now. As I once said to Eliza: "My heart isn't an open cage waiting for someone, nor is it on my sleeve. It's in a gun vault that someone lost the key to." She laughed and agreed.

"I guess I do, don't I?" He looked down at himself and then pulled out a staff that had been standing next to him. It was black with a white tip on the walking end and a fancily curved silver handle. He poked the white end at me and growled, "Arrgh! I'm taking captive the Lady Quinn! I shall take her to my garden island until someone pays ransom. Otherwise, she walks the plank." He poked me in the ribs and it tickled so much that I jumped sideways, hitting my head on the side of the car with a crack.

Now we were both laughing and I was holding my head and trying to stay straight-faced as I imagined what it must have looked like. I failed, bursting into laughter.

"Are you okay?" Brendon managed to get out around his laughter.

I nodded, feeling gently at the tender place, the pain already fading. "I'm fine." There was really nothing else to say, and we spent the rest of the short ride taking turns trying to sober our faces, but then catching each other's gazes and uncontrollably bursting out in laughter again.

I wasn't sure, but I'm pretty sure I caught the quiet vampire Spencer smiling and maybe even a laugh escaping from his mask when I hit my head.

When we stopped around the back of the mansion, Brendon opened the door and ran around to open my door before I could even put my hand on the handle after unbuckling. He offered me a white-gloved hand and I took it, stepping out of the car and catching my breath.

The garden entrance was definitely grand: it was a white arbor with vines growing all around it, but there were all kinds of different plants on the arbor. I saw some morning glories with delicate petunia-shaped petals and blue, purple, or bluish purple with white stripes (about three broad bands a flower) radiating out from the center of the flower. There were grape vines full with so many ripe and picture perfect grapes I almost asked if they were fake before Brendon plucked off a couple and gave me one, puncturing two on his fangs, the juice spurting everywhere.

There were more flowers I didn't know, but oh, gosh! There were lanterns set up everywhere, burning bright and fervent in the still night air. They swung from the mouths of sitting lions about twenty feet apart and threw light flickering across the white pebbles that I kicked along as we walked, talking.

I don't normally like gardens, but the Baron definitely knew what he was doing. There was a pond right in the middle filled with crystal clear water and you could barely see in the bottom a bunch of Roman tiles like what you would find in Pompeii. A bunch of different pathways led to other parts of the garden, but Brendon and I walked around the pool, talking and admiring the way that the firelight from the extremely huge lions' lanterns reflected off the lake.

I eventually had to sit down because my feet were starting to hurt and Brendon sat down across from me as I removed my boots and, after a moment of hesitation, rolled my tights down my legs and placed them inside the shoes. I curled my legs up on the cold stone bench to my right side (the same flank that Brendon sat on).

"You seem very comfortable around me, don't you?" He asked; it definitely wasn't a statement.

"Well, yeah." I used a tone and gave him a look that said 'duh'. "You're not a zombie. I don't think you're about to lose control after how calm you were when I let you into my house and everyone was sleepy and just about helpless."

"What do you mean, I'm not a zombie?" He gave me this quizzical look like he couldn't make the connection.

"I mean that you're still in control of yourself. You're still the same person that you were when you were alive. Trust me; I'd know if being undead changed your personality."

"Ah. And zombies aren't."

"That's right. They're just kind of shuffling shells. The person they used to be is gone – they don't have any self-control or anything."

"Yeah." Brendon looked up at the sky and then his eyes roamed around in the constellations before looking back at me. He gave me this huge grin that immediately made me wary.

"Do you want to dance?" He asked.

It was even worse than I thought (which was jumping in the pond). I had never taken dancing lessons and I had never been to a dance in my life. "Uh, no thank you. I can't."

"Come on. I'll lead." Even my protests didn't stop him from grasping my wrists and pulling me up. He positioned my hand around one of his massive mitts around my waist and held the other one out in front of us.

"There's no music!" I cried. I should have known he'd find a way around that, but hey, I was blushing horribly and was trying to untangle myself from him. But one, he was much bigger than me and two, he was a vampire. All those combined meant that I wasn't going anywhere. Not that he was hurting me or anything; he just wasn't about to let me sit down.

I knew my cheeks were flushed and I was embarrassed more about the fact that everyone could see us than by how close in proximity we were.

"Who said that?" Brendon grinned a smile that showed his fangs, flashing gold in the candlelight. He began humming a song that I recognized but couldn't place. Then he began waltzing, a very easy dance that rather than being dragged along, I stepped along in time with him. It was terrifying at first, and I resolutely looked down at my feet rather than into his brown eyes.

Brendon began humming louder, spinning me into a dip that I (pathetically) melted into and flung my head back until my hair dragged on the tiles surrounding the main plaza and pond. As he pulled me up and into another spin I stood up on tip-toe and did a pirouette like a ballerina – something I'd never been and probably executed horribly. The hard tile hurt my feet slightly, but Brendon's excitement was making me excited and I started to throw myself more and more into the dance.

We ended on top of the rim surrounding the pond with him pulling me into another dip that dragged my hair through the water. He pulled me up and jumped down, then offered me a hand which I took and hopped down.

"See, that wasn't so bad." He wasn't breathing hard, but I certainly was. The dance had gotten faster and his song even more crazy and erratic as we'd gone on and I was feeling completely content, like all my nervous energy had been drained out and replaced with a calmness and happy feeling that spread down even into my cold toes.

"And you performed magnificently." A voice from behind us said. I turned to see a figure outlined in the arbor.


End file.
